In the Hands of the Enemy
by Phantom Sunstorm
Summary: Yohji's been captured - rescued? - by the enemy. They are the enemy right? They once were... Nobody is what they seem.
1. Default Chapter

Yohji knew that somewhere on the shimmering astral plane the irony gods were sitting on their golden thrones, hands on their knees, laughing themselves stupid. So, he had survived the tragic shootout that left his beloved Asuka dead. So he had survived the short-lived but violent reign of the madman known as Takatori. So, he had survived the rise and fall of the mysterious and frightenly powerful occult of the Rosencrucians. And so, he had survived sharing the same house with a maniac depressent modern samurai, a former soccer champion with a short temper and two left feet, and a young metrosexual that had been raised to kill people since before he knew how to ride a bicycle.   
  
oh hell.   
  
For the sake of his ego, he was not going to die here.  
  
The mission was suppose to be simple right? Monitor the activity of a rising youth cult, link its leaders to some more diabolical criminal machine, step in when the killing begins. No problem. Hunters of the night once again denying the evil beasts their tommorow. When the bullets started flying and the enemy didn't refuse to retreat, Yohji found himself diving into the frey, attempting to make one last shot at saving the doomed youths before their cult leaders threat to blow up the entire warehouse became a reality.  
  
He was lucky to survive the explosion and he assumed the others had done the same. Now, finding himself at the edge of the inferno, a single bullet lodged into his side, Yohji was beginning to regret seperating himself from the pack. He didn't know how far he could make it, he didn't know where the others were, and most importantly, he didn't know when the hell his communication set had been knocked off his head during the fight.  
  
Yohji clenched his sides and wished he had psychic powers. Earth to Omi, Earth to Omi, come pick me up man, I need a hard drink. He felt himself sinking to his knees, the blood oozing like a river now. Why couldn't Omi be a telepath? Why did he have to loose his head set. I cannot die now! I have a date tonight with Turkish twins...   
  
The world around him was spinning, his mind felt light and fuzzy, and in the face of almost certain death Yohji felt almost giddy. Though the thoughts of psychics and telepathic communication should have stung more deeply in his mind, reminding him of a period in his life when he was dealing with such freaks with powers. At least he didn't have to deal with them again. They were dead and buried, right? Under the ocean.  
  
"Hey " A voice screamed, "Not fair! Who beat us to the kill?"  
  
Yohji's head touched the rugged asfault, the wound must have been deeper than he thought. Amazing he had even managed to crawl out of the warehouse alive. His whole body was beginning to shiver. C'mon Kudoh, its too early to go into shock. You are such a fucking pussy.  
  
"Whatever," A nasal drone dismissed. Yohji couldn't tell where the voices were coming from. Everything was getting dark. "less work for us." Why did that voice sound familiar?  
  
"Just sit back and watch the fireworks."  
  
Another explosion sounded off in the distance.  
  
Yohji's arms wrapped around his sides, his hands were now completely slick with blood.  
  
"Cops will be here soon, lets go home." The nasal voice commanded. Why did that sound so painfully familiar...   
  
Omi... Aya, come get me, damnit. I'm dying here.   
  
Footsteps, then a pause. "...what do you see?"  
  
"...nothing. Get in the car. I'll catch up with you later." Retreating footsteps and approaching footsteps. Whoever had met to watch the show was splitting off. Yohji tried but couldn't force his eyes open. He was so weak, too weak to even flinched back when he felt a body kneel next to him and lift his face above the blood soaked street.   
  
Warm breath poured down on him. Yohji couldn't hold on anymore.  
  
"Hmm... ah, what is this? A kitten without a shelter?"  
  
Oh...  
  
Hell.  
  
No wonder that voice had sounded familiar.   
  
"Shit, Kudoh, you're badly injured. Where are your little friends?"  
  
Yohji couldn't summon the energy to growl. With a grimace of rage he sinked into unconciousness. His last thought being a curse and a bark of dread: Damn it, the irony gods must be laughing. 


	2. Chapter 2

Life didn't return to him right away.  
  
Days passed and Yohji vaguely felt himself come back to reality, only to weakly sink back into darkness moments later. It was like this for a very long time. In one instant his mind would boot up, pain would return to him and he almost felt like himself. Then the claws of fatigue would regain their grip on his wary physic and draw him back to a sleep that was beginning to feel enternal. So, he was still alive, helpless, and he wasn't sure how long he would stay in this condition.  
  
Is this the end? He wondered. Where ever his team memebers had dumped him it was warm and soft. Why can't I wake up? Actually, if felt kind of nice.  
  
Voices echoed in the back of his memory, he only caught half of the conversations that must have swarm around him. How pathetic, he couldn't pull himself together. And yet, he was so tired he didn't care. A dull throb beat against his side.  
  
"Need I remind you that I don't approve of his presence." A voice chided. "He makes the others nervous."  
  
That wasn't Aya talking. That wasn't Omi or Ken.   
  
"He'll leave when he's ready. He just needs time." A hand reached out and brushed hair away from Yohji's face. The hand was strange, strong, and cool to the touch. "Its not safe to return him to Weiss just yet. Not in this state. Not with what's after him."  
  
Yohji's head tossed to the side in an attempt to shake himself back to reality. His eyelids felt so heavy, his lips seemed to be weighed down, and it was difficult to breath. The more he tried to regain concoiousness the more evident the pain on his side was.  
  
"...you yourself said its not wise to interfer with the affairs of mortals, what inspires the sudden interest?" Another voice teased.  
  
A pause, perhaps not a pause. Perhaps Yohji had just blanked out again. "I kept him alive for three years, I'm not about to let him fall now."  
  
This time he did sink and realized, when he woke up again, that some time had ellasped. How much time, he did not know.  
  
"...it will never end." A rough tenor mumbled.  
  
Yohji's heart skipped a beat in panic. He had enough, he wanted to be awake. He was somewhere soft and warm, but he was not with Aya. He was not with Ken and Omi. And those whispers, the shadowed bodies that had been floating over his head for god knows how long, were starting to sound painfully, terrifyingly familiar.  
  
"Oh well, whatever. Nevermind." Footsteps.  
  
He was not about to become Schwartz or Estets pawn. Experiment. Prisoner.  
  
"Hush kitten." The same cool hand fell again on his face, stroking him.  
  
Wild emerald eyes sprang open. With a single, agonizing lunge Kudoh Yohji sat up for the first time in three weeks. Something inside him tore. Probably flesh. Stitches it felt like. The hand that held his face jerked back and Yohji stared into equally shocked, unguarded eyes. He had never seen that expression on the Mastermind bastard before. He wish he had the time to enjoy it. But he couldn't. Instead his back arched and he let loose the most frightening, high pitch scream either assassin had ever heard.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Bradley Crawford barely flinched when the banshee wail bounced through the hall and echoed into the dining room. His cream brown eyes lifted above the rim of his newspaper to regard the person seated opposite him in a cool, sadisticly amused tone. "It would appear he's awake."  
  
The Japanese youth paused from his typing and sighed. He pushed his chair away from the dining room table and put the password up on his laptop's screen saver. "...I'll help with damage control."  
  
"Oh good," Crawford took another sip of his coffee and turned to the business section. "Because I wasn't planning to."  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Strong arms held him down as he struggled to claw his way to freedom. Yohji spit and snarled and utterly forgot all of his assassin training in the fury of pain and panic that seized his being. He was not going to be a prisoner to Estet. He was not going to be Schwartz captive.   
  
Oh god. What if they had already used him. What if they had pulled everything from his head and had gone to capture the others. Omi. Aya, Ken.   
  
"NO, get away from me!"  
  
Schuldig laid ontop of him, trying to force him back into the bed. "Easy, Kudoh, you're going to tear..." Yohji's knee shot up and buried itself into Schuldig's gut. The telepath leaned into the pain to keep from doubling over. "...FUCK, you'll tear your stitches, god damn it." Schuldig finally managed to take both of Yohji's wrists in his hands and was staring furiously at the olders man face.   
  
Suddenly he threw his head over his shoulder and grinned to something Yohji could not see. "He's a fighter, huh?"  
  
"...Maybe he wouldn't be in such a panic if it didn't look like you were trying to rape him." A young, annoyed voice replied. Naoe Nagi stepped to the bedsides right with a glass of water and bottle of painkillers. "Get off him, Schuldig. He's not Farfarello."  
  
Schuldig obeyed and Yohji calmed down a bit. Not for the reassuring presence of Schwartz's youngest memeber, but because he knew if said memeber wanted to, he could restrain Yohji in a way that would be far more unpleasent than anything Schuldig could manage. Yohji felt himself fall back against the pillows, breathing heavilly. The pain in his side was so mind numbly brilliant that Yohji wasn't even beginning to recognize it as pain anymore.  
  
Damn, the Schwartz bastard was right. I shouldn't have moved.  
  
On cue, Schuldig's head tilted to the side and he flashed Yohji a most beautiful sneer.  
  
"Kudoh." The telekentic commanded, in his most calming voice - as if he was talking to a wild animal, "You may or may not remember, but you were shot on a pier about three weeks ago. I'm going to check your wounds and make sure nothing was... broken."  
  
Yohji didn't remember the little brat being so chatty, much less so commanding and sure of himself. From all his encounters with the small boy, he had remembered feeling pity for Nagi. Pity that he was stuck with Schwartz, which always seemed reluctant. Pity that he was in the business of killing, which he was far too young to do. And pity that he so often bowingly and shamelessly followed every order and Crawford and Schuldig dished out.  
  
Lithe, confident hands lifted the blanket from Yohji's side, then moved away the bed clothes Yohji was postive was not his own. He winced as Nagi's butterfly touch roamed on is inflamed side, but knew it was more gentle than anything Schuldig would have ditched out. He found himself inspecting the wound as well. The stitches looked stretched, but more or less intact. The amount of black thread buried into his honey toned flesh was more than he would have considered necessary, but aside from the normal brusing and swelling, the job looked well crafted.  
  
Nagi shook his head. "That little stunt aggreviated the wound, but it will heal properly." Large eyes turned accusingly at the only red head in the room. "He won't be able to walk for another few days, and he shouldn't be running around for any length of time for another couple of weeks. It could still tear."  
  
Yohji's brow furrowed and he clenched his teeth. "...What the hell am I doing here?"  
  
And why are you treating me this way.  
  
Another tilt of the head from Schuldig, another beautiful smile. "We found you bleeding and disorientated at a site we were contracted to demolish. Of course, the place was already a smoldering pile of flame when we got there. Funny how Weiss and Schwartz scheduals so often coincide."  
  
That was enough. Yohji felt his rage building and saw Nagi take a step backwards. "That. Doesn't. Explain. Why. I'm. Here."  
  
Schuldig frowned, the smile gone. "I scanned the area, Kudoh, Weiss wasn't anywhere near your useless body. Would you rather I have left you there to die?"  
  
Yohji frowned back. "I would have expected it."   
  
I know Schwartz. You didn't catch me out of the kindness of your heart.  
  
Cruel jade eyes narrowed. "You," the German snarled, "know nothing of Schwartz."   
  
In a blur of the famous inhuman speed, Schuldig disappeared. Nagi followed shortly after, glass of water and bottle of pain killers left on the nightstand as an afterthought.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

"He's on the mend, huh? Guess I'm glad to see that he's going to make it..." 

The strange quiet voice was the first thing Yohji heard when he came to again. Yohji frowned against the bedrooms darkness and tried to adjust himself in the mess of sheets. The bed beneath him was damp with sweat but felt fairly clean, still the unfamiliar cotton made his skin crawl. The whole situation made his skin crawl.

Here he was, trapped in Schwartz lair and he had nothing but exhaustion to defend himself with. He wondered if Weiss knew where he was. What if they just presumed him dead? They wouldn't be looking for him, he would just have to wither away here at the mercy of his superhuman enemies until they either found him useless or boring. And then they would...

He tried to mull over the conversation he had with Schuldig, but the words were too ridicolous. One of the telepaths tricks... it had to be. But why would Schuldig make himself sound so... humane? Even concern and offended and upset. That just didn't make sense. He knew Schuldig, and Schuldig loved being in control. He didn't gain the upper hand through compassion either, Yohji had seen the red head work people over. He could manipulate others without exposing himself to vulenrability, he certainly hadn't acted gentle or sympathic when he screwed with Sakura's head.

What was his angle here?

"Now that we know he's going to be okay, we should return him to Weiss." Yohji recognized that voice. That impatient sighing tone that could only belong to the young Naoe Nagi. His heart tightened when he heard that statement.

Return him to Weiss? Would they? But if they did, that must mean that they were up to something.

"Not yet," Farfarello's rasp, "Too dangerous."

Yohji bite back a cry as his attempt to sit up on his own failed. His stomach muscle gave out and he fell limply against one of the many pills piled up beneath him. He didn't like the thought of being so helpless with that Schwartz pscyho only a room away from him.

"But..." Nagi's voice countered, a little more quickly than Yohji was accustomed to. "Doesn't he make..."

"It's okay," The boy was cut out by the first voice, the quiet one Yohji had never heard before. "I don't mind him here. I guess."

Yohji wished his could see beyond the slight crack of the bedroom door. A small curtain of light poured in from the hall and although he wasn't able to make out the silloute's of the conversing members of Schwartz, he could tell that they were talking right next to the enterance. They must have stopped to have a discussion on their way in. Yohji prepared himself to go limp and fake unconciousness when they decided to come in.

"What about Crawford?" Nagi asked.

There was a pause between the other two speakers, then the one with the quiet voice answered. "He said Schuldig can do whatever he wants with Kudoh. He doesn't have any plans."

Nagi sighed and Yohji could hear him shuffle around. "I wish he'd be more assertive in this matter. I don't like having him here, it makes me nervous."

The quiet one chuckled, "You're usually so calm headed, this isn't like you. Look at me, do I look nervous?"

Instead of answering, Nagi changed subject, "When will the Yukigawa contract be finished?"

"Next Monday." Farfarello answered. "Don't talk about it. He might be listening."

Yohji tensed and attempted to arrange himsef more approiately in the bed. He needed to look like he had been sleeping the whole time when they finally came in.

Another laugh from the quiet one. "Ooh, now I feel nervous." A slight pause in the conversation, then shuffling. "Hmm, its almost ten. Cartoons are about to come on. Call if you need help, Nagi? Come on, Farf."

The bedroom door was pushed open and it took all of Yohji's willpower not to jump with fright. His effort wasn't good enough though, as he could hear Nagi pause in the doorway and regard him with suspicion. The room was washed with a calm yellow glow coming from the hall lights and Yohji slowly opened his eyes. Troubled green met ancient brown in a contest of wills, Yohji was the first to back down.

Nagi sighed again and approached the bed, turning on a lamp at the nightstand and seating himself onto a chair that was already pressed close to the mattress. "How are you feeling, Kudoh?" He questioned after a moment of silent examination.

Yohji pushed down his immediate fight or flight reaction and fixed a steady stare on the boy. "Why are you keeping me here"  
Nagi turned to the nightstand and pulled open one of the top drawers. From there he took out a medical kit and neatly set it ontop of the blankets. "Its what Schuldig wants." Was his practical, detached response. The kits lid popped open and the teenager rummaged through the contents. "I don't agree with it. I think we should have left you there. But the others disagree."

Yohji's eyes widened in slight horror as Nagi pulled out a strange device and placed it up to his ear. He jumped back in the sheets at the sudden popping noise the device did inside his head, expecting a rush of pain and possibly death. Nagi withdrew the tool with a queer expression on his face, turning the device around to study it. "Well, Kudoh. According to this thermometer you're body temperature is normal."

It took a lot of make a sex crazed drunkard like Yohji Kudoh feel like an idiot. This did it.

Nagi rolled his eyes and placed the device back in the box.

"Is this... is this Schwartz headquarters?"

The question caused the boy to freeze and he looked up from the kit a bit startled. Yohji felt slightly anxious as Nagi's expression melted from mild shocked to mocking amusement. "You could call it that. This is our apartment. This is where we live, eat, and plot evil."

To his disgust, he found himself blushing. How could a kid make him feel so foolish? "So... then... why?"

Nagi sighed, "I told you. It's Schuldig. I guess he doesn't want to see you die. And for the record, I don't really care. Now don't throw a bitch fit, I'm going to pull back these blankets and check your bullet wound." True to his words, Nagi grabbed the blankets away from Yohji and rolled them away from his stomach. The hairs on the back of Yohji's neck rised from both the invasion on privacy, the horror of his inescapable vulenrability, and wash of cold air from the thick coverings.

"Will you... let me go home after this?"

"Yeah, when you're up to it. The wounds healing, but you still shouldn't be walking for awhile." Nagi produced a can of balm from the kit and used a q-tip to smear it around Yohji's healing flesh. "You're being awake two days in a row is a big step forward. And the sooner you get out of here, the better. I think Dark Zoilo wants his room back."

"Oh..." Yohji took in the words but still didn't believe him. He mind returned to the repeating track of betryal. Schwartz was defiently plotting something - when weren't they? Schuldig was probably somewhere close by now, invading his subconcious, programming thoughts into his head that he wouldn't realize were foreign until it was too late. He was going to be Schwartz puppet he knew it, he was going to... Wait. "Who?"

Nagi looked up at him as he forced the blankets back into place. "He's a psychic on our team. You don't know him."

Yohji's mouth dropped slightly, processing this new information. "Schwartz got a sixth...?" This means... Weiss was out numbered. Weiss was outnumbered. He was wounded and probably being brain washed, and Schwartz now had a sixth?

Nagi shut the kit and placed it back in its drawer. "What do you mean 'got'?" He mocked, standing up and turning off the light. "He's been part of our team for years. You just never noticed. Get some sleep Kudoh. You need to heal."

-------

Schuldig came home around sunset and smiled at the calmness of their apartment complex. Up here on the 40th story things were muted, the hundreds of minds below them couldn't reach him up here. They were like ants and this - he gazed into the somber living room, floor and walls awash with the blood orange glow of the setting sun - this was his sanctuary.

Nine years, he had worked nine years to get this. Crawford was building him an Empire and Schuldig had been with him since the beginning. Before Takatori, before Schwartz. Before they were anything but little boys being trained to become killers in a psychic cult called Rosenkratz. Everything Crawford had promised him he had delievered, and Schuldig would do anything to make sure it remained that way.

The presence of Yohji Kudoh in his life was a minor threat. A danger he embraced openly. Because, no matter how much the red head enjoyed peace and quiet, he still liked a little risk in his life. Yohji could do nothing personally to him. Schuldig was too smart and too fast to ever be harmed by the Japanese assassin; but what he stood for, what geared him was dangerous.

There was more to the organization Yohji and his friends were working for than what the dim-witted children could ever imagine. Kriker. Rosenkruez. The Free-Masons. Yohji's white cross and his ideals of justice were nothing more than a shadowed link to an enemy that could pull Schwartz back into everything they had fought for almost a decade to detach themselves from.

But that didn't mean that Schuldig was going to let this chance pass itself up.

He had plans for his little White Knight. And Schwartz. And the rest of Kriker.

Schuldig entered the living room and pulled his scarf off. It was getting colder by the day and he had to carry around extra clothing to survive Tokyo's harsh weather. Next he unbuttoned his coat and drapped it on the couch, knowing that either Nagi or Crawford would be by sometime in the next hour to hang it up. Damn their obbessive compulsive personalities. They'd also spring out of their hiding places to make dinner soon.

The house was so quiet in the early evening.

Too quiet.

Even after all these years the silence still caught Schuldig off guard. As a telepath he had always craved the sensation, his senses were almost blind to be able to tell the difference between a natural calm and a psychic induced stillness. But today he could detect it and his eyes slowly began to roam the rooms interior, looking for the source of the soundlessness.

Shadows, shadows, false light...

"He's awake."

Ah, there it was.

Schuldig shrugged out of his boots and gloves and fell against the couch. The spell was broken and the sound of his body crushing against the soft leather sounded like a thousand panes of glass shattering. He set his feet on the coffee table and stretched out. "Hows he feeling, huh?"

"Anxious."

Schuldig dug his hand inbetween the cushions of the couch for the televison remote. "Where's Farfarello? Out?"

"He's sleeping."

Schuldig tilted his head to the side and frowned slightly, "His medication acting up on him again? He hasn't been cutting, has he?"

"No," The quiet voice answered, "he's just sleeping."

The TV turned on and Schuldig began to channel search. The motion was half-assed though, he already knew he wouldn't be interested in anything showing. What he really wanted to do was run in and check on Kudoh. But he didn't want to look desperate in front of his team members. Concern, Schuldig? For an outsider?

He paused on the cartoon channel and tapped the remote against his forehead. "How about you? You okay that he's here? I could move him to my apartment, you know."

Damage control.

"It's okay, I guess."

Schuldig stared at the moving pictures, "Huh. You'll tell me if it starts bothering you, right? I like to know these things. Not because I care, but because I don't want Crawford kicking my ass for... distrubing team dynamics. You know how it is."

"It's okay, I guess." He repeated in the same questionable tone. Schuldig suddenly felt eyes upon him and felt a second presence in the room. He relaxed under the scruntiny. "My show's going to be on in twenty minutes. Its the season finale, so I get the TV, ok?"

Schuldig tapped the remote against his head a few more times, blue eyes swinging towards the ceiling in thought. "Hm, maybe I should bring a TV into Kudoh's room. He's going to be bedridden for a few more days, don't want him going crazy."

He lowered the remote then tossed it onto the coffee table.

"Ah...but that'd require lifting something. And Farfie's asleep. Oh well, I had good intentions. I'm going to take a shower. Knock yourself out kid."

Schuldig left the living room, hearing the televison change channels as he entered the hallway.

-----

That night the German telepath used his powers to monitor Yohji's consciousness. When he felt the Asian surface from his dreamlike state he prepared a plate of food and threw a few helpful items onto a bed tray.

The kittens thoughts were paranoid, nothing more than could be expected. Schuldig could always go into his little head and ease the suspicion out of his mind, sort of like ironing the wrinkles out of a damp shirt, but Yohji wasn't as stupid as he looked and might notice the tampering.

If only he were an empath.

Crawford came into the kitchen with a folder in his hand. The American had graced them with his presnese at dinner but hadn't made an effort to interact with them. No, once again Brad Crawford showed up to a meal with his laptop and spent the entire evening alternating between typing and spooning rice into his mouth. Now he couldn't even get a glass of water without bringing some work with him.

The Oracle had certainly managed to keep himself busy after the fall of Estet. And to Schuldig's displeasure, seemed to enjoy the overload very, very much.

"Feeding him?" Crawford asked, while pulling a glass out of the cabinate.

"Well, I figured he had to eat at least once a week." Schuldig replied with a bit of a smirk.

Crawford raised an eyebrow, "I'm impressed. With that kind of motivation its a wonder the goldfish only survived two weeks."

Schuldig took a moment to pout. "It didn't starve to death, it commited suicide. Goldy couldn't take it anymore, Brad. Not in the tank we bought for it. I mean, it only had a handful of colorful rocks and a small treasure chest. Now if you let me buy the 10 gallon supreme aquarium for him, with the little neon viking castle and gold tinted---"

"That's fascinating Schuldig, but I stopped listening two minutes ago." By the swift shifting of his eyes on the folder paper, Schuldig could tell that he was joking. "For once, try to clean up after yourself. And don't leave any unused food in Dark Zoilo's room. We don't want a repeat of the milk incident."

Schuldig rolled his eyes and shuffled away. He had a few witty replys but held them back, if he let them loose he knew he and Crawford could be standing there all night. Bickering was foreplay to the American and Schuldig didn't have time for games.

He had to concentrate anyway. He had overloaded the bed tray with too many dishes and was in trouble of letting it all spill on the floor. God forbid, if that were to happen he'd be forced to clean all of it up by himself. And Schuldig didn't clean anything up.

Eyes focused on the tray, he almost missed the rather large hunting knife that shot forth from the hallway, stopping dangerously close to the tendons of his ankles. A feral amber eye stared up at him, and Schuldig had to move the tray to the side to gaze down at the threat.

Farfarello was seated on the floor, back resting against the doorframe of his bedroom. He had a pair of headphones wrapped around his neck and several magazines laid out in front of him. His head tilted to the side and he delicately sniffed the air. "Are those... grapes?"

Schuldig sighed, "Yeah, they're grapes. I didn't want to cook anything, so I just threw a bunch of random food together."

A pale hand reached out demandingly. "We will not be sharing grapes with the enemy."

Schuldig bit back a second sigh and set the tray on the floor, giving Farfarello a chance to exmaine the entire contents. He quickly removed the small bowl of fruit from the selection, then as an afterthought attacked the box of cheese crackers. Still, with his selections made, Farfarello eyed the tray suspiciously, wanting to make sure none of his food was being eaten by an outsider.

"...does it meet your approval, Master?" Schuldig snapped.

"If I find my ice cream tampered with I will skin Kudoh alive and use his back hide as a grocery bag." Farfarello said.

"Right," Schuldig picked the tray up and continued down the hall. "Ice cream, off limits."

Farfarello popped a grape into his mouth and glared at his retreating form.

----

Yohji had been laying awake for the pass twenty minutes. He felt so drained, he could barely lift his head to look at the digital clock he had found on the nightstand. It was almost eleven o'clock, Omi's bedtime - after being put in the hospital for twenty-fours hours from overworking himself from school, work, and work he had nearly died from exhaustion Aya and Yohji decided that their baby needed a bedtime. He wondered how Omi was.

Was anyone else hurt during the mission? Schwartz had said that the rest of Weiss was no where to be found. So that meant that they must have been all right.

Why did it feel like they abandoned him?

"Yo, Yohji." Schuldig kicked the door open with his boot and grinned at the bed ridden figure.

Yohji scowled and closed his eyes, both from the sudden onslaught of light and the horror of seeing the red head's face.

"I have a nice face," Schuldig said. He set the tray down and perched on the bed. "You should consider yourself so lucky to be able to see it. Hmm, I can see you're feeling better. Your thoughts are clear."

"Quit reading them." He grumbled.

Schuldig laughed, "I can't help it. You're thinking about how sexy I am. I'm flattered. I brought you some food, you know."

Yohji's nostrals flared in outrage and he was about to snarl and say he didn't want anything that Schwartz bastard had to give him when a sudden wave of nasusia overtook him and his drew in a breath. Schuldig was there immediately, lifting Yohji's body into a half sitting position, so that if he had to vomit he wouldn't choke on it. His hands were so... gentle and strong, it was hard to imagine that this was the same criminal who tried to kill all of Weiss over and over again.

Schuldig's mouth thinned. "You smell. And you're a bastard. Are you going to puke on me or what?"

"...go...to hell, Schuldig." Yohji hissed.

"Ah, kitten," Those same strong hands moved forward and combed away hair from Yohji's face. "You see, I've already been to hell. But I came back for you. Aren't you flattered?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Let your stomach relax, then I can take you in for a shower and you can eat some."

The thought of Yohji taking a shower in the same eight mile radius of Schuldig only made his stomach more upset.


	4. Chapter 4

Long slender fingers ran across the length of the bathtub's porceline rim. Somber emerald eyes darted from the tiled walls to the moving digets, his breath quickened as Schuldig's fingers came threateningly close to the soapy bath water. Yohji's teeth clenched and he gathered up his will power. "Could you not do that... please?"

The red head chortled, a familiar sound in an otherwise alien situation. Of course, he didn't withdrawl from the water, instead he curled his fingers inward then let them spring out, flicking the surface of the tub and creating a small, sharp splash. At least Schuldig afforded Yohji the dignity of facing away from him. But that was it. The Schwartz telepath insisted on not only staying inside the bathroom while Yohji cleaned himself, but took a seat right on the floor next to him.

"I used to do this for Farfarello," he said, voice quiet.

Yohji blinked and drew up against the side. The motion stretched his wound and he hissed, fearful suddenly that he had broken something. The sharp pain at his belly decreased slowly into a dull throb and he relaxed his mind away from it. "Wh-what?"

Schuldig didn't seem concerned about Yohji's sudden outburst on pain. "Sometimes Farfarello is unstable." Yohji fought the urge to snort and snap out 'you think?' "And we worry about him being alone in the bathroom. Sometimes he does things. Not so much anymore though. He likes to take baths, and nowadays our biggest concern is him falling asleep in the tub. Might drown, you know. Or use up all the hot water. Nagi goes psycho when he wants to shower and there's no hot water."

At first Schuldig had wanted to give him a spongebath, the suggest nearly sent Yohji into another longterm fit of unconciousness, and after a bit of bickering the two had reached a compromise. Yohji wouldn't be allowed a shower, like he would have preferred. No, he had to settle with a bath - a bubble bath, with his stitches tightly enclosed in some plastic wrapping and duct tape. Yohji wondered why there was duct tape in the bathroom drawer.

But mostly he wondered...

"Why am I here?"

Schuldig sighed, "I know magic eight-balls who have a larger variety of phrases then you."

"You want to brainwash me and turn me against my team!" Yohji accused. His words were a challenge, and in retrospect, maybe it would have been a better idea to throw down the gauntlet somewhere other than the bathroom. With him naked and covered in vanilla scented soap.

"For WHAT purpose, Weiss." Schuldig snapped, voice dropping to a venemous hiss at the mention of his teams name. Up until now Schuldig had always refered to him as kitten or Kudoh. The sudden formality was a warning. With his back still turned to Yohji, Schuldig bared his teeth. "You are not our enemies or our targets. You NEVER were our enemies and it was only circumstantial that you became our targets."

"What about Takatori? Aya's sister?" Yohji rocked forward and regretted it, the pain on his side was now something he couldn't ignore and a hand went out to cover his injury.

A sharp laugh came from Schuldig then. "Takatori? Are you kidding? You stupid bastard, we GAVE you Takatori. We practically gift wrapped him for you and your little friends. Why else do you think you found him, abandoned and pancking in that burning building?"

He had always wondered... always wondered how Aya so easilly got rid of his arch-nemisis. Why Schwartz, Takatori's personal bodyguards hadn't been there to protect him. To protect his sons. To protect... Yohji's eyes widened, "What about Ouka, huh? What about her? I saw what happened that night, I was there. The gun, your white monster missed. He was aiming for Bombay and he hit Ouka."

Schuldig was silent for a long moment, then he moved. He made a sound, a sharp enhaleing through his teeth as if he had spent the last few minutes holding his breath. "That was..." He paused to search for words, "...there was more to that then you would understand."

Now it was Yohji's turn to respnd with cruel laughter. And he almost forgot the burning at his side. "Whats your game here, Mastermind? The tragic hero doesn't suit you. I don't believe that you or your messed up team are good people who are just misunderstood. And you can't coax me into buying that. Sure you saved my life, but how do I not know that you didn't cause the incident that got me seperate from my team and wounded? That would be just like you. Cut the crap, I've seen your tricks. I've seen how you can distort someones perception on things, like with Sukura. And I'm not going to buy it."

The speech left him winded, he was hurting and he used up more energy then he should have venting his anger. Yohji cringed against the pain and made to draw his knees up into himself when his eyes caught the water. It was turning pink. Pink with...

"...bleeding..."

Schuldig's head snapped around and his eyes widened. Ignoring Yohji's cry of protest, he grabbed the Asian assassin by the knees and waist and hoisted him out of the water.

"Nagi! Get down here, NOW!"

---------

The Koneko was unusually quiet that night. Usually around this time Yohji was romping down the stairs, dressed to offend, and talking cheerfully about it. Omi and Ken could be found on the living room floor, either watching tv, surfing the internet, or playing cards. Sometimes all three. Aya was up in his room, as usually, either reading or writing a letter to his sister - who was now going to college. The dark glare he'd give the door at the loud TV, Yohji's brash behaviour, or Ken's screams as he lost another Old Maid match was almost a noise of its own.

But now... now things were just quiet.

The door to the downstairs mission room opened and two heads looked up. One face was hopeful, the other withdrawn. Their expressions were answered with a sad shake of the head. Still no word from Yohji... and after all this time, Kriker Intelligence was beginning to fear the worse. Omi slide across the hallway and stepped into the living room, where the others were waiting on the sofa.

This is how every night had been since that mission. All three of them on the same couch, dead silent; thinking, maybe if they stayed awake long enough their friend would come stumbling through the front door, drunk and staggering as he had always been.

But...

"Kriker..." Omi's force faltered. Purple and brown eyes trained upon him, willing him to continue. Omi couldn't take his focus off of his interlaced fingers. "...Kriker said... said that if we were having problems, they could send another agent. To...to help with the shop...and...and missions."

Aya leapt to his feet and the sound of his boots slamming on the floor made the other two cringe away. The red head scowled and his mouth formed a silent reply: no. No. He stomped to his bedroom.

Omi, the leader of Weiss, turned to Ken for guidence. The young mans eyes were shining and he couldn't hold it back any longer. "Ken... K-ken, I don't know what to tell th-them."

The former soccer player didn't hesitate. He wrapped his large arms around Omi's shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace. Omi sagged against Ken and began to shake silently. Ken's breath quickened at the emotion and he brought his arm up to Omi's back to rub tight circles around his shoulder blades. "Just tell them 'no', Omi. 'No, we aren't giving up on him.' He's going to come back, and... and we aren't giving up on him."

Omi couldn't bring himself to speak, so he just nodded against the inside of Ken's shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time. The sun came up. And no matter how long they waited, Yohji didn't come home.

-------------

Crawford picked up the phone and listened.

It was 3 AM.

"Weiss isn't faring so well without their precious Kudoh," The voice on the other line reported cheerfully, "I'm beginning to wonder if they can hold it together."

"It's a normal reaction when you think someone close to you is in danger. Or dead." Crawford replied evenly.

"Nows the time to strike, the iron is quite hot. Everything must be going according to plan, not that I would know anything about it of course. But if I were to kick a fallen dog, now would be the time."

Crawford changed phones from one hand to another and ran a hand through his fine ebony hair. "What of Kriker?"

"Oh, they have tons of agents willing and ready to replace the leecher. We can only count on Weiss' soft heart not allow themselves to rebuild so soon. With them in their current condition..."

"Yes, I know." He interupted. Crawford's gaze pointed in the distance, "Hm. Continue doing what you're doing. I'll get back with you at the end of the week."

"But of course! Any special orders?"

"Don't... let Weiss do anything... drastic."

-----------

"You really are an idiot... Schuldig." The teenager reprinded. Naoe Nagi didn't like being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to do his normal duties - like taking care of Farfarello if he was having one of his fits, or helping Schuldig find his way to his bedroom if he came home shit faced. Or calming down... Nagi frowned and glared at the sleeping Kudoh. If he didn't like nursing his own team members, then he defiently didn't take well to nursing someone elses team members. Especially over something as stupid as a bubble bath.

"He rip anything?"

"No, not really." Nagi was cleaning up the mess he made patching Yohji back together. "I just had to tape him up a little tighter. What were you thinking, let him soak in water anyway?"

Schuldig shrugged in his typical Schuldig I-ignore-all-the-rules way. "He smelled bad."

"You're an idiot, have I mentioned that before?" Nagi snapped the lid of the medical kit closed with a tight slam and shoved it back into the drawer. "We should get him on a schedual now that he seems to be awake and with it. I have school tommorow, but you can wake him up at a decent hour and make him eat. Keep him entertained. The longer he dozes the slower he'll heal. And then we'll be stuck with him forever."

"God forbid, Kudoh being stuck with us forever." Schuldig snorted. "He's got such a mouth on him, huh?" He turned towards the dark shadows of the open hallway. Nagi followed his gaze, eyes trailing from the carpet of the bedroom to the open door, finally to the darkness beyond. "Don't you think, boys?"

Two shadows emerged and stared hungrily at Kudoh.

"He doesn't belong here." The first shadow, Farfarello, said.

"It's okay, I guess." Replied the second.

"But we can't return him." Farfarello said with a frown.

"Not yet, anyway." Said the second.

Nagi looked annoyed, "I don't see why we're protecting him."

Schuldig, who had been sitting on Yohji's bedside the entire time, reached forward and pushed aside the Asian's brown bangs. Yohji sighed in his sleep, comforted by the touch. "It just turned out this way. And I'm kinda glad."

Nagi's eyes narrowed, "You've always been protecting him."

Bitter words, Schuldig could easilly recognize them. "Like you were always protecting Toto?"

The teen drew a sharp breath and the other two bodies in the room reacted to it. Farfarello took a step forward while the boy beside him took a step back, melting once again into the safty of the shadows. Nagi caught the movement and turned sharp eyes to glare at them. "Why... why are you two going along with this?"

Farfarello smiled while the other boy slipped away, retreating down the hall and into another bedroom. The vague look on the pale Irish man was only halfsane. "I want them all dead. All of them. And this will hurt them more. If we cuddle one of their white angels while we kill them. Did you know angels are the knights of God?"

"Don't play ranting heretic with me, Farfarello." Nagi snapped, "I know there's something else."

"Go to sleep, Nagi." Schuldig said tiredly, cutting off any reply Farfarello was ready to make. Nagi turned on the German, temper ready to flare up. But Schuldig matched his glare with one of his own. "Go to sleep, Nagi, before I make you."

Crawford had just gotten off the phone when he heard the slam of their telekentic's bedroom door.


End file.
